


How Do You Sleep Knowing What You've Done?

by Artasaweapon



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Betrayal, Blackmail, Blood, Fabulous Killjoys - Freeform, Haha more Crash Track, M/M, My first work thats not a oneshot lol plz kill me, Racing, Temporary Character Death, The Fabulous Killjoys Are Not MCR (Danger Days), danger days, haha funpoison, no sex bc im ace and i dont like it ew, possible gore, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22127767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artasaweapon/pseuds/Artasaweapon
Summary: Jaren and Max Milligram make it out of Battery City after what feels like a lifetime of planning. Many people are perfectly friendly, and understand the culture shock that comes with the switch from Bat City to the Zones. Some would prefer to punch first, ask questions later. But someone isn't telling the truth, and how did BL/I know the Zone's best kept secret?
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star/Show Pony (Danger Days), Kobra Kid/Mr. Sandman (Fall Out Boy)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Jaren loved the Slums.

It caused investigation into his home life by the Scarecrows, but it was so worth it. The Slums was where outcasts who couldn’t, or didn’t want to get out to the Zones stayed, every so often a BL/I raid would come through, one, twice, sometimes three times a week, taking people to reeducation and killing those they couldn’t catch. But people survived them. These were the people Jaren hung out with.  
They taught him how to tell stories, and how to fight.And so here he was, again and again. Sometimes Killjoys came in, though rarely. They called it the Lobby, as opposed to the city kid’s Slums, but came here for art supplies mostly, as well as helping some people get out to the Zones, those who could, anyway. Jaren had been hoping to meet another one for months, to help him and his brother get out. They had taught him how to fight, mostly, and write stories. His brother had other talents. Drawing. He loved to sing, and would sing all the time when he was in the Slums. Then Better Living gave him a higher dosage, and he stopped. Jaren had taken the pills, dumped them down the toilet, but only after three weeks of taking them.

“Jaren!” A harsh whisper. Jaren snapped his head around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Over here.” It was Sira. Jaren grinned and walked over, trying to be inconspicuous. “There was a Killjoy. Fun Ghoul, he said.”

“What? Seriously? Where?” 

“There was a raid Jaren. The fourth one this week. They caught him. He’s probably dead.”

“He’s—” Jaren stopped. “My last chance.” He finished quietly.

“I know.” She smiled sadly at him. “I can’t wait to see you as a Killjoy.”

“Not without them. Where did you say that they took him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Will you?”

“Toward HQ.”

“Seriously?” Jaren rubbed his face. “If I can, I’ll see you before I leave, yeah?”

“You’re still going after him?”

“I have to.”

“Take this.” Sira handed him a gun, bright red with white stripes, and Deluxe written down it in cursive.

“Sy, are you sure about this?” Sira’s older sister was a Killjoy, and when she died, she asked her crewmates to send the gun back to her. It was her only memento of her sister.

“Yeah. It needs to be with a Killjoy.”

“I’m not one yet.”

“You will be.”

Jaren shook his head. “One day, Sy. I’ll come back, I swear to God.”

“Destroya.”

“Swear to Destroya.” Jaren turned and started to jog, taking a last look at Sira. Then he turned away and ran back to the main city. “Shit, shit where are they gonna take him?” Jaren turned, and ran down an alley, leading to headquarters. He ran to a pay phone and shoved the raygun under his clothes. The phone rings, and rings, and finally on the sixth ring, a boy picks up.

“Milligram residence.”

“Max, it’s me.”

“Jay?”

“Yeah. Look. There’s finally happiness here.”

“Wait—Seriously?”

“Yeah. Pack up. There’s gonna be a new sunrise. Meet me at HQ.”

A long time ago, Max and him made a code, if they ever had to tell each other something, they could, without BL/I knowing what they were trying to say. Happiness here=Killjoy in the city. A new sunrise=the sunrise they’d see when they got out to the Zones. So Jaren kept moving. Slowly he came upon the huge BL/I headquarters, and realized that he had absolutely no plan whatsoever. So he walked in.

Unsurprisingly, everything was white. The only colors that weren’t white were either gray, or black. Jaren walked up to the front desk. “I’m here to report suspicious activity.”

“Scarecrow information desk. Level four.”

“Could I have a map?” Jaren had to act like he was confident, even though inside he was massively panicked. “I’ve never been in this facility before and I need to know my way around.”

“To your left.”  
A collection of flyers, propaganda, paperwork, informational booklets and such sat on a shelf, and Jaren grabbed a map, heading to the elevator as he stared down at it. Waiting room, Scarecrow information desk, cubicles, holding areas. There. Level -2.  
Negative two. The hell were these people on?

So he hit the -2 button. And the elevator asked for a passkey. “Fuck!” He snapped. That was something he hear Sira say, and it had caught on.  
But, Destroya was on his side, and someone walked into the elevator, just as he was about ready to walk out and find another way.

“Where are you going?” They asked.

Jaren didn’t answer until the door had closed, then he pulled his gun and shot the guy in the chest. Twice. For a moment, Jaren stared down at the gun in his hand, and the man bleeding on the floor. Then he grabbed the keycard and swiped it, sending the elevator down. As Jaren stepped out of the elevator, he made sure there was no one in the hall, before walking back in and shooting up the controls, jumping out of the elevator just as the doors closed. No one would know that anything was wrong until they tried to use the elevator, and it’d be another day before they could get in and fix it. Plus there were like four more elevators.

Jaren darted across the hall, running down towards the cells, and passed cell after cell of Killjoys, most drugged up and monochrome, some angry and full of color. Jaren hadn’t seen that much color before. The angry Killjoys slammed their hands against the walls and doors, screaming profanities. There were a few who sat against a wall, not drugged up, but not full of so much emotion.

He made a choice.

Jaren used the keycard to open every cell he passed, yelling to the Killjoys. “Listen up! Run. Run, and raise hell!”

One grabbed his shoulder, and Jaren tensed, ready to fight. “Thanks.” They said.

“I need something. A description. I’m looking for a specific ‘Joy. By the name of Fun Ghoul.”

“‘Came down a few minutes ago. Black hair, green vest. Careful, kid’s volatile. Demolitions expert. He was also was a punchin’ bag for the Crows.”

“Thanks.”

“Look kid, we come here, and most of the time, we’re dust.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re a city kid, yeah?” Jaren nodded. “Somethin’ you learn ‘bout the Zones, ‘bout the Killjoys, is we would rather die fightin’ then die in a cell, drugged out of our minds.” With that, he turned, opening up a cell door and grabbing the occupant, a drugged Killjoy woman.

Jaren kept unlocking doors, yelling the same message, until he found what he was looking for. A teenager, about his age, with shoulder length black hair, and a green vest, with the absolute shit beat out of him. And he was completely unconscious.  
“Hey! You Fun Ghoul?” Jaren yelled. He dropped next to the guy, and shook his shoulder. “Hey!”

The kid blinked his eyes open, barely able to open his left one, due to how unbelievably swollen it was. He jerked away, bringing his fist up to swing at me. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re fine. I’m here to get you out.”

“The fuck are you?” He mumbled.

“Names Jaren.”

“Stupid name.”

“Look who’s talking, Fun Ghoul.”

“Call me Ghoul.” Jaren helped Ghoul off the ground, and he almost immediately collapsed back to the ground, Jaren barely catching him. “Fuckin’ bastards.” He groaned, looking like the pain was really getting to him. “They caught me in the Lobby, and beat the shit outta me. Think they broke something.”

“You’re gonna be out in the Zones in no time.”

“So what…” He groaned. “Do you want with me?”

“Just one thing.” Jaren paused, basically dragging Ghoul out of the cell. “Let us come with you.”

“What? You wanna be a Killjoy?”

“Me and my brother.”

“Y’know what, fine. I’ll get you guys out.”

“Thank you. C’mon. Your gun and stuff should be this way.” Jaren dragged him down the hall, and led him to a storage room. “What’s it look like? Your gun?”

“’S green, says horror on the side.”

Jaren nodded as he saw what Ghoul was talking about. “Here.” Ghoul took it and pushed away from Jaren.

“I can walk on my own.” Ghoul snapped, before falling against the wall. Jaren went to grab him, and Ghoul slapped his hand away. He then began to limp heavily, grabbing various objects to keep him upright. His face was coated with sweat, like the energy and pain that was required of him not falling to the ground was all he could manage.

“Ghoul you’re being stupid.” Jaren snapped. “You’re gonna get us both killed. Just shut the fuck up and let me help you.”

After a moment’s thought, Ghoul nodded, and let Jaren sling Ghoul’s arm over Jaren’s shoulder.

“Y’know…” Ghoul struggled to get the words out. “If you wanna be a—A Joy, you gotta have a name.”

“Haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You should.”

All the sudden, the white walls were bathed in red, and alarms screamed out the fact that the Killjoys had been discovered.

Jaren and Ghoul ran as fast as Ghoul could hobble through the halls of Better Living Industries and just as Jaren thought they were gonna make it, they were surrounded by a group of Dracs.  
“Oh Destroya.” Jaren heard Ghoul curse.

“Drop your weapons.” Someone snapped. An orange haired guy, dressed in black and white regards us with disdain. Past him, Jaren could see the escape, with cars and dull sunlight. “So. Fun Ghoul. You thought that you could get away.”

“Considerin’ your incompetence, Flare…” Ghoul hated how shaky his voice was, but continued anyway. “I thought we stood a pretty good chance.”

One Drac falls, with a burned hole in it’s chest, then another, and another. The Scarecrow, Flare, apparently, turned as another Drac went down, and shot at whoever was killing the Dracs.

Luckily, Flare missed, especially because the person shooting was Max, and Jaren would have preferred him alive. Max dove for cover, and every blast fell short.

Ghoul and Jaren took down the rest of the Dracs and took off running toward the light, Ghoul barely keeping it together as he limped.

“C’mon Ghoul. Hold on just a little longer.”

“We’re not gonna make it.” Ghoul muttered. “Still got the whole city to get through. We’re not gonna make it.”

“You know what, Ghoul? Shut up.”

Jaren squinted at Max, and he ran to help with Ghoul, who was now grumbling angrily about ‘civvie kids.’ “Get him into the car, get out of the city.”

Max nodded, then grunted as all of the guy’s weight dropped onto him. “You’re Fun Ghoul, right?” His shoulder length black hair swung wildly as he nodded. Everything this guy did caught Max’s eye. “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

Ghoul nodded again.

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell me, because I don't.”

“Not surprised… Pampered city kid.” Max dumped him in the passenger seat, and Ghoul let out a cry.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“Only a little bit.”

“Hotwire the damn car.” Ghoul picked up his gun and started shooting out the window, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“How!”

“Pull off the plastic cover under the steerin’ wheel. Good. Move the bundles of wires. The last two left, strip ‘em and twist them together.”

The car came to life with a worrying sputter, and Max threw himself into the car as Jaren pulled up on a motorcycle.

He sat so easily on it, white helmet glinting in the sun, and grinned at Max. “I’ll keep them off you, you get Ghoul out of the City.”

Max nodded, and slipped the car into reverse, before speeding out of the parking lot, blasts following them the whole way.

Max stepped hard on the gas pedal, and slowly pulled away from the BL/I Scarecrows.

“Front of us!” Ghoul yelled.

Directly ahead, four white cars and a van block their escape, and Max pulled a hard right, jumping up over the curb, Ghoul gritting his teeth at the jolt.

“Didja have to yell?”

“Didja have get on the fuckin’ curb?”

“Didn’t wanna die!”

“Well neither did I!”

“Well wouldja rather be hurt or dead?”

“Getaway Mile!” Ghoul yelled.

“What?”

“It’s the way cars get outta the city. Hit the redline, civvie.”

“What?”

Ghoul sighed. “Go as fast as you can.”

****

When Jaren got shot, he didn’t even notice.

It felt like someone punched him in the gut, so he ignored it, and kept on driving.

When he was on a bike like this, everything felt irrelevant. Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice.

Maybe it was the adrenaline running through his system.

Nothing existed, not BL/I, not Ghoul or Max, just the cold wind and the warm bike against his leg.

It was fine. None of it mattered.

Not when he was bleeding out.

Not when the sand skidding below him was the only thing he felt.

Or the bike sliding around him. Good thing it was around, and not over.

Why was he worried about burn scars?

Shouldn’t he be worried about dying?

The sky was a beautiful shade of blue. Brighter than it ever was in the City.

Then everything went dark.


	2. A Breath to Breathe, A Race to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul might not have a lot of time left, and Jaren has no idea what to do now, now that he's finally in the desert.

Max stared around him again, causing the car to swerve violently, and Ghoul punched his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Stop gapin’ at the fuckin’ sand! By the time you die, you’ll have seen enough of it to make you sick! Eyes on the road, or escapin’ the City’ll have been for nothin’!”

“Jeez, Ghoul, lighten up! I’ve never seen the desert before.”

“You’ll’ve enough time to stare at it when we’re in Zone Five.”

“C’mon, it’s not like they’re chasin’ us.”

“That kinda talk, you die in a week. They’re  _ always  _ chasin’ you.” Ghoul growled.

Eventually, they hit Zone Four, and Ghoul finally said they could stop. They had been driving for almost eight hours, and Ghoul had only let them stop after Max had almost crashed into a pole.

“Y’know what, just stop. Stop! Pull over and put the car in park!” Ghoul yelled.

" I thought you wanted us to get to Five before we stopped?” Max protested.

“With your driving, we’re not gettin’ there!” Ghoul winced, and Max took it as a sign to stop the argument.

“Fine, we’ll stop.” He pulled to the side of the road and took a breath, Ghoul looking like he was about to die of a heart attack.

“‘S there any food ‘n here?” Ghoul attempted to twist to see Max as he got out of the car, then laid back straight with a pained look.

Max popped the trunk, to find PowerPup and water. “Yeah. It’s our lucky day.”

Ghoul wrinkled his nose at the sight of the white cans. He pulled a knife and popped the can open, before handing the knife to Max.

“I’ve never had this stuff before.” Max said, smelling it gingerly.

Ghoul grinned, something Max never expected him to do, and stared expectantly at him.

“What?”

“You gotta eat it first. It’s a… Zone tradition! New Killjoys eat the PowerPup first.”

Max glared at him. “You are absolutely bullshitting me right now.”

“I’m not! I’m—Just eat it.”

So Max took a cautious bite, and almost immediately spit it out the window.

Ghoul burst into laughter.

“You knew that would happen!”

Ghoul still grinning, shrugged. “Y’get used to it. Eat it or starve, y’know?”

“So you like it?”

“Oh, it’s my favorite.” Max couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

****

“Who the hell is this guy?”

“I dunno, Benze. Dead? He looks dead.”

“Nah. He’s alive. Sand, pick him up. Gonna take him back to the Valley. Psycho, grab his bike.” Jaren groaned as someone picked him up gently. “C’mon Sand. I toldja he was still alive.”

“Not for long.” A third voice chimed in.

Every step hurt, and as the other two sets pulled away, the man called Sand whispered down to him. “I dunno if you can hear me, civvie, but you’re gonna be okay.”

  


  


Jaren blinked his eyes open to see a guy with shaggy pink and black hair dead asleep on a chair next to him. He glanced quickly around, panicked, before trying to sit up, pain flaring through him. He dropped back down, trying not to cry out.

The guy woke up with a start and almost jumped out of his chair. “Jesus fuck!” He yelled.

Jaren stared.

“Oh. It’s you. You’re awake.” The guy stood. He had a blue jean jacket, and black jeans, and looked like he would start laughing at the dumbest joke. “Foundya in the desert, hole in your chest. Don’ worry though, we gotya back to the Valley. Benze is one of the best doctors in the Zones. Along with Jet Star, with um… What was her name? It was Janet or somethin’. Neutral names, I swear. Anyway. Looks like you’re good now.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh! I’m Mr. Sandman. Leader of the American Suithearts. Or the Youngbloods. We go by that too. Depends where you are, y’know—”

“Sand’s  _ not  _ the leader.” Someone else said from the other room. “We’re more of a democracy. If anyone’s leader, it’s gonna be Benze.”

Sand grinned, “with all due respect Menace, which is z e r o. Shut the fuck up. I’m  _ trying _ to make a good impression.”

“Jump in a pit, Sand.” The guy Sand called Menace walked up and leaned on Sand. “Don’t listen to a word this guy says. It’s all lies.” Menace whispered the last word and clapped Sand on the shoulder, wandering away to some project he seemed to be working on.

Sand smiled and looked at Jaren. “So who’re  _ you? _ ”

“Name’s Jaren.”

“You new to the Zones?” Jaren nodded. “Well you’re gonna need a Killjoy name. And a new… well… this.” Sand gestured to Jaren in general.

“What do you mean,  _ this! _ ?” Jaren asked indignantly, before wincing with the pain.

“I’m all for the sass, civvie, but don’t fuckin’ die. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Sand helped him off the cot, and let Jaren stand for himself. The blood staining his grey shirt surprised him and Sand looked at him sympathetically as he jerked up.

“You were pretty close to the Witch there for a moment or two. Ida been disappointed if you died. You’re cute.” Jaren could feel his cheeks heat up. “Heya! Benze!”

“Whaddya want!”

“Hair dye!”

“You and Psycho used the last of it! Use bleach!”

“Guess you’re getting blonde hair.  _ Something _ needs to be done with that hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Jaren touched his hair self-consciously.

“One. BL/I’s gonna recognize you in half a second. Your mug’s prolly all over the City by now. Two. It ain’t gonna fit your new aesthetic. Three. It’s just terrible.” Sand winked again. “When I get done with you, you’re gonna be the hottest Killjoy in the desert.”

****

When Max woke up, Ghoul was gone. Panicked, Max scrambled out of the car, “Ghoul!” He yelled.

“Calm your tits.” Ghoul groaned from the other side of the car. “I just needed some air, and I fell.”

“Ghoulie, that doesn’t help your case.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Max leaned against the car beside him. “You look horrible.”

“Cause that’s what I needa hear.” In silence, the two looked up at the night sky, the stars 

brighter than Max had ever seen in the city.

“My mother’s up there.” Ghoul whispered.

“Mine too.” Max glanced at Ghoul. “BL/I took her and replaced her. I’m sure she’s dead.” 

“Crows Claws. Died in a firefight with BL/I. Dr. D told me she was a hero, but I never knew her.” Ghoul sighed, then coughed.

“Who’s Dr. D?”

Ghoul grinned. “Lemme show you.” He pushed against the car and stood up, pausing before attempting to make it to the door. He took a step and hit the sand again grunting at the impact.

“Ghoul!” Max helped him sit up, and Ghoul gritted his teeth. His eyes were bright with fever, and the spot where Ghoul said he was injured was so hot he could feel it from two inches away. “We gotta get you somewhere. Anywhere!”

“Jet Star.” Ghoul leaned his head against the car, and closed his eyes.

“No, don’t close your eyes. Who’s Jet Star?” Max pulled the knife Ghoul handed him earlier.

“Best doc in the Zones,” Ghoul gasped. “What the hell are you doing with that knife?”

“I gotta release the pressure, Ghoul.”

“You do that, I pass out. Don’t do that.”

“But you could be hurt worse.”

“Don’t care. Gotta stay awake.” Ghoul forced on a smile. “Who else could get you to Jet?”

“Then we gotta go. Now.”

Ghoul tried getting up again, and when he hit the ground he leaned against the car. “I can’t do this.”

“C’mon, Ghoul. It’s okay. I’ll help you, it’s okay.”

“I don’t need help!” Ghoul snapped. “I don’t  _ want _ help!”

“Ghoul—”

“ _ Leave me alone! _ ” Ghoul shoved him away, and threw his head back, looking like he was trying not to cry out.

“Ghoul, listen to me. You are burning up, and we need to get you to a doctor. BL/I’s gonna find us soon, and we gotta get outta here.”

Ghoul glared at him. “I  _ know! _ Look, I have been on my own for years. I don’t need some civvie playin’ hero comin’ in an’ pretendin’ to know what he’s doin’.”

“Ghoul, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“If I can’t do this on my own now, what the hell am I supposed to do when I’m on my own again!” Ghoul finally yelled.

“You are out of your mind if you think I’m abandoning you until you can, at the very least, walk by yourself.” 

Ghoul seemed to zone out and stare past him, and Max realized how close he was to passing out.

“Ghoul, stay awake. Remember? You gotta stay awake.”

“I don’t… know if I—”

“Don’t care. Stay awake.” Max snapped. Ghoul nodded, mostly just a raising of his chin. “Okay, Ghoul, I’m sorry, but this is going to really hurt.”

Ghoul’s only response was angry, pained grunt, that probably meant, “get on with it.” So Max threw his arm around his shoulder and lifted him up. The light was beginning to grow, and Ghoul cried out as Max and him overbalanced and fell against the car.

“It’s okay, Ghoul. It’ll be okay.”

“Sure it will, civvie.”

Max got Ghoul in the car, and he jumped into the driver’s seat. “Okay Ghoul… You need to tell me where to go.”

“Just drive.”

Max hit the gas and they sped off, Max driving as fast as he could go. At about eighty or ninety miles an hour you start to feel like you’ve lost control of the car, and it’s just speeding on of it’s own volition. It’s strange. It’s a strange feeling. They kept going for almost half an hour, without slowing down.

Ghoul sucked in air through his teeth. “It’s okay, Ghoul. It’s okay.” Max muttered.

“Turn right.” He said, all inflection gone.

Max took a screeching turn, and almost flipped the car. Ghoul choked back a scream. “What the fuck are you doing, Max!”

“You told me to turn right!”

“Not that fast!”

“I’m goin’ a hundred!”

“That’s it?” Ghoul asked in a condescending tone. “There! That’s it!”

Max stopped, throwing up dust and skidding to a stop. Six or seven people, with various colors, and various guns come and meet us outside. Ghoul opened the door and basically fell out of the car, and Max and a Killjoy with fluffy brown hair both jumped forward, the one with fluffy hair yelling, “it’s Ghoul! Someone get a litter!”

Max landed on the ground next to Ghoul and tried to lift him off the ground. The guy with the fluffy hair, who Max realized was probably Jet, grabbed his shoulder and kept him from helping Ghoul. “We’ll take it from here, don’t worry, Ghoul wouldn’t have come to me if he didn’t trust me.”

The four others that were with Jet got Ghoul onto the litter, which is basically a portable cot, and start taking him inside. “Who are you?”

“I’m Max.”

“Civvie?”

“Not anymore."

“Good. We’ve got hair dye.”

****

Kobra stared at what Sand did to his hair. He had to admit. He really liked it. Sand had thrown him a red jacket with a snake head on it, and the four Killjoys had started calling him Kobra.

He liked that too. He decided his name could be Kobra Kid, and the snake on the jacket was apart of him now.

That was four days ago.

“Hey! Kobra! C’mon! I’m gonna show ya somethin’, so get your bike an’ helmet!”

Kobra shrugged and grabbed the helmet that Menace had painted with him. It looked kind of like a caterpillar, with big, see through words that spelt “good luck” on the visor. His bike still went unpainted. Kobra couldn’t find a color he liked, but he was sure to cover up the BL/I smiley face on either side.

“Kobra!”

“I’m comin’!”

As Sand appeared in the doorway, Kobra grinned.

“You’re takin’ forever.”

“Aw, shut up.” Kobra held his helmet under his arm and followed Sand outside. The drive was about two hours long, must’ve been on the southeast side of Zone Six. “Where are we?”

“It’s called the Crash Track. It’s a racing track.”

“There’s racing in the Zones?”

“Yeah! I do it pretty often. The way I make my carbons, y’know?”

“People pay you to do this?”

“Hell yeah, man. But you gotta be good. See, so people bet on you, and if ya win, you get what they bet on you. You lose, you pay back halfa what they bet. It’s hard, but if ya lose ya still don’t starve, which is always great. But ya lose and people aren’t so quick to bet on ya again.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Ya get used to it.”

“Hey, Sand, um, I was thinking I was gonna head out. I need to find my brother.”

“Kobra…” Sand shook his head. “I know you’re worried about him, but you aren’t healed. It’s only been a couple days. You’re still a little unsteady, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know anything about where he is, or if he’s hurt.”

“Didja see him get hurt in the City?”

Kobra shook his head.

“Just a few more days, then I’ll help ya look, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

“C’mon, I gotta get on the track.”

“Wait, you’re racing  _ today _ ?”

“Yeah. It’s why we’re here. I have a race today and I wanted you to see it.”

“Oh.”

“C‘mon.”

“Motorbabies to the Track! Let’s go y’all it’s time to get movin’!”

“Gotta go! Check out down by the barriers, kay?”

Sand looked so excited as he brought his bike down to the track.

“Three! Two! One!” The roar of the engines caused Kobra’s adrenaline to spike and his heart to beat faster. Every racer took off and were gone in a cloud of dust.

For a moment, everything went quiet and every Killjoy watching was holding their breath. Then massive cheering came, and Kobra’s eardrums just about burst.

Kobra leaned on the rail and watched the racers fighting for first, the black jacket in the lead. Then everyone disappeared from view, and the Killjoys started chatting with each other.

“Heya! What’s your name? I’m Neon Race.”

“Kobra Kid.” 

“Youa desert kid?” 

“Nah. Came from the City, ‘bouta weeka go.” 

N eon Race laughed. “Ya look like a natural. Here’s a bit of advice. Not everyone trusts City kids, careful who ya say that to.”

Kobra nodded seriously.

“Aw, that’s jus’ depressin’. Who ya here for?”

“Sandman.” 

“Really? You’re friends with Sandman?”

“Saved my life.”

It was Neon’s turn to nod.

“Heyo! They’re comin’ back!”

Everyone rushed back to the rails as the racers finished, with another huge cheer going up as some ‘Joy Kobra didn’t know won by an inch.

Sand was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this wasn't Beta read and I only have a vaugue idea of what's gonna happen. Leave kudos, keep chattin' in the comments and stay tuned for Chapter 3!


	3. Everybody Loves a Good Fight (Except People Who Are Tired of It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandman gets Kobra into something he has no idea how to do. BL/I found the rehab center, and Ghoul, Jet and the rest of the Killjoys are in danger. Again.

“What’s up?”

Max turned to Jet, flinging water all over the place. Jet held up his hands jokingly.

“‘M just dyin’ my hair. One of the other guys told me that color is brighter if you start from blonde hair so I bleached it. ‘M gonna do red.”

“Cool. Whatcha plannin’ on doin’ after you’re done?”

“Here? ‘M gonna find my brother.”

“You leavin’ Ghoul here?”

“Well it’s not really my choice if he comes with me or not, but I’m not leavin’ until he’s ready to do stuff on his own.”

Jet breathed out hard. “Oh thank god! You would not believe how many new Killjoys we get who come here, maybe drop someone off, maybe dye their hair and then just leave.”

“Geez. Uh, no. The bastard’s stuck with me.” As an afterthought, Max looked up at Jet. “Does Ghoul like Power Pup?”

Jet laughed. “Not even a little bit.”

“I _knew_ it! I knew it!”

“He made you try it first, didn’t he.”

“Yeah. Then he laughed his ass off.”

“Jet! Ghoul’s awake.” Jet picked up a towel and tossed it to Max. Max dried his hair as he walked out with Jet.

Ghoul looked exhausted, but when he saw Max, he grinned. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“You look like you were run over by a truck.”

“I jumped out of one.”

“Quit braggin’.”

Ghoul rolled his eyes. “So, where we goin’?”

“Ghoul, you’re not getting out of that bed for at least a day.”

Ghoul groaned. “C’mon, that’s stupid. Don’ you have like, crutches or some shit?”

“Dude, the closest thing we have to a cast is literally a stick and ace bandages.”

“That works for me.”

Jet rolled his eyes. “Look, we need some supplies, and we can’t really spare more than one person, especially with Ghoul crashing in here like a helium bomb. We’ll pay your gas. By that I mean we’ll send Cola with you and he’ll teach you how to siphon gas.”

“Why can’t just one person go? I’ll be alright alone.”

“We’ve got a rule. No one goes alone. Helps protect people. Helps keep people alive.”

“Okay…”

“Anyway, Cola’s gonna come with you, he’ll get ya to Dead Pegasus, teach ya a couple things, and you’ll come back here. Hopefully then you can get Ghoul out of my hair.”

“Wait, wait, woah woah woah! Are you seriously leaving without me? I’m _gonna_ kill you.”

“Look, Ghoul, It’s not my fault you jumped out of a truck. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“When you come back I expect you to be better dressed!” Ghoul said. 

“Noted.”

A man in his early twenties walked into the room. “Jet! You got me my second ‘Joy yet?”

“Sorta.”

The man, Max assuming it was Cola, squinted at Jet suspiciously. “What do you mean _sorta_.”

“This is the kid that got Ghoul back here. In mostly one piece.”

“Well if he hadn’t been so stupid to go into the City alone, we wouldn’t’a had a problem.”

“Cola, shut the fuck up!” Ghoul called.

“Anyway, wassup kid. I’m Cherri Cola.”

“Max.”

“No Killjoy name?”

“I’ve been in the desert for like, eight hours.”

“Good point. C’mon. I wanna be back before dark.”

Cola and Max left in the stolen BL/I car, the sun shining through the window and forcing Max to put down the visor. “So, where you from?” Max said awkwardly.

“Originally, San Francisco. After the Helium Wars? Zones.”

“You’re old enough to remember the Helium Wars?”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Then aren’t you old enough to remember?”

“I—” Max did have memories. Mostly fuzzy ones, of Jaren and their mother, but slowly, after he got off the BL/I pills, there were a few more, and the lines were less blurred. He glanced out at the sand and back at the road, deep in thought.

“Comin’ up here. How many carbons you got?”

“Enough for food and some decent clothes.”

“Good.”

Max pulled up to a little gas station, with a couple pavilions built up around it. “This is it?"

"No this's the Alive Pegasus."

"Y'know that's not actually funny."

"Shut up, it was hilarious." Cola and Max walked into the gas station, and Cola turned. "You're following me."

"Am I? 'S not like I know my way around."

"Pavilions outside'll be sellin' shit, and something told me that Ghoul would kick your ass if you came back looking like a literal Scarecrow. You're actually givin' me the heebie jeebies."

Max looked hurt. "I look like a 'Crow?"

Cola contemplated a moment. "Yeah. But if people were afraid of you you'd be dead. You're too scrawny to be a 'Crow." Max nodded sagely. "But seriously. Buy yourself a decent outfit."

Max turned and started looking at the various booths that blocked shade around the gas station. They held everything from powerpup to guns, to comics, to Mad Gear and the Missile Kid CD's. Max had heard of Mad Gear and the Missile Kid. A two man band Jaren and him used to sneak in their room. Something caught his eye, and thoughts of two man bands disappeared.

A yellow domino mask.

"'Much is that?" Max asked.

"Two carbons."

"I'll take it." Max handed him the carbons, and the domino mask felt right in his hand. He walked a little aimlessly back to the gas station and as he walked in, Cola threw something at his head.

"My welcome to the Zones gift, kiddo."

"You're not that much older than me." Max retorted.

"I'm older enough. I'm callin' you kiddo. You gonna accept that gift or not? I think I got some extra shirts and jeans back at the rehab."

Max looked at what Cola gave him. A blue, red and white Dead Pegasus leather jacket. "I love it!"

"C'mon then."

"Wait!" Max half ran over to a woman and pointed at the black shirt, which spelled KEEP SMILING out in bright yellow letters.

"Kid, I think there's something about to go Costa Rica, and we don't wanna be here when the radiation hits." Cola warned him.

"It's just gonna be a second."

"Max..."

"I got it, Cola." Max got the shirt, and Cola practically sprinted to the car. "Geez, Cola. Are you alright?"

"There is something very, very wrong." Cola muttered.

"Are you sure it's here?"

"No, I'm not— Oh my god, the rehab center. Drive, and drive fast."

Kobra tried shoving past the Runners, the 'Joys that kept everything running smoothly, but they stopped him from sprinting onto the track. "Sandman!" He managed. 

"We've got people lookin' for him."

"Let me help."

"Sorry kid."

The silhouettes of three people came up the track through the shimmering heat, slowly making themselves recognizable. The one in the middle was carrying a busted helmet and limping, looking exhausted.

"Sand!"

Sand looked up at the sound of his name and grinned. He waved Kobra over, and the Runners let him pass.

He jogged out to Sand. "You're stupid."

"What!"

"You crashed."

"Wiped out." The two Runners next to Sand glanced at the pair for a second before moving off.

"Same difference. Are you okay?"

"Sprained my ankle. Goddammit. I was so hoping I'd do well in this race. Especially with you watching." Kobra felt his face heat up again. "C'mon. I'm gonna grab some water."

Kobra walked with Sand to the pavilion selling water and food. "You better keep that helmet."

"Why don't you keep it?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Y'know, ya should enter for the next race. You're a natural Motorbaby." Sand bumped Kobra's shoulder.

God Kobra wanted to die. His face was on fire, and it definitely wasn't helping with the heat already outside. "Yeah, sure." He managed to choke out.

"C'mon, I'll show you how."

Kobra, again, was following Sand around the Crash Track. Sand led him to another pavilion, and leaned on the table there. "Name's Sandman. Sign me up."

"As usual, Sand. Who's this?"

"Kobra Kid. Sign him up too."

"Shiny. Bike's name?"

Sand was at a loss. "Um—"

"Twenty-Seven." Kobra broke in.

"Alright. Next race, next week. At Lightning Stadium."

"Shiny." Sand nodded, and the pair walked toward their bikes.

"Wait, so what day is the race?"

"In seven days. There's one once a week, every seven days. Easy to keep track of."

"Oh."

"Yeah, come on, we gotta go home. I'm hungry, and my ankle hurts like hell."

Cola and Max hit a hundred fifty on the way back, and it only took them five minutes to get back. Max, for the second time, threw up a cloud of dirt as he skidded to a stop. Four white cars were already parked haphazardly around the rehab clinic.

"Shit. Shit, shit shit!" Cola basically threw himself out of the car, grabbing his gun.

"Cola wait!" Max hissed. "You rush in like that, you're gonna get ghosted."

"They probably already are!"

"Which means we need to not be!" Max grabbed his gun and stood next to Cola.

"So what do we do?"

"We spread out. One around back, one straight through the front."

"I'm taking front." Cola snapped.

The pair split, and Max ran around back. At least he didn't look like a Scarecrow at the moment. He walked quietly through the door, and tightened his grip on his gun. He glanced around the corner, and there were six Dracs, two joys being held at gunpoint.

"What are they waiting for?" Max asked himself. He kept sneaking through. He couldn't fight six Dracs off at once, especially with no experience. He did find their guns, assumedly, dropped when the Dracs got the jump on them. He was able to get their guns to them without the Dracs noticing, by some combination of miracle, luck and a hope not to get shot. He moved past as fighting broke out, and kept moving. He heard a groan and burst into a closet, ready to shoot the shit out of whatever was in there.

Ghoul was ready to shoot the shit out of him too.

He looked miserable, pale and looking like he was about to pass out. "I hadta pee." He said, "at least it doesn't hurt as bad as before, because Jet put a splint on it… He shoved me in here, and I can’t…”

“I get it, it’s alright.”

“It’s _not_!” Ghoul snapped. “People are dying because I can’t suck it up and die like a Killjoy.”

“It’s not your fault. You know they would fill trucks worth of body bags if it got them an extra carbon.”

“I could help, at the very least.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

Ghoul glared at him. “You try this. It fucking sucks. How did they even find us, anyway.”

"C'mon, Ghoul. You said it yourself, stick around in one place too long and they'll find you no matter where you are. Do you have your gun?"

"No..." Ghoul shook his head. “It’s in your car.”

“My…” The idea that Max had a car… _his_ car. That kinda fucked him up. “Okay, well we gotta get out there. We gotta get everyone out, before everyone dies.”

“Alright.” Max helped Ghoul off the ground, and Ghoul was able to limp out the closet. They kept low, and finally they found Cola, who had found Jet.

“Who’s still alive?” Max asked.

“Us four, as far as I know.”

“A couple of other Killjoys. Ghost and um… Lunacy.”

“Okay. That’s six.” Jet nodded.

Max turned. “Out of?”

“Eighteen.” Cola broke in. “Spook and Voltage are dead.”

“That’s sixteen. Fuck…”

“Oh god.” Ghoul shoved away from Max and tried to stay standing. “I’m so fucking sorry. This is my fault.”

“That’s one thing you’re right about.” All four Killjoys turned. Flare stood straight, surrounded by Dracs. “Hand yourself over, and we’ll leave. And of course, the citizen too.”

“I’m a Killjoy!” Max snarled. “And you’re not touching Ghoul!”

“We’ll keep killing. How many now?”

“Six.” One Drac supplied.

“I swear to god—” Cola started, but was cut off by a _zwip_ and his cry of pain. He fell into Jet, and Jet kept him upright. “It’s just… my shoulder, I’m fine.” He growled.

Max and Jet held up their guns, Cola holding his tight, and struggling to gain control of the pain long enough to get to his feet. Ghoul looked like he was considering giving in.

“C’mon Flare.” Max snapped. “It’s not like you won’t massacre us anyway after you get Ghoul.”

“You wouldn’t die either way. You’re going to reeducation. The Killjoy, on the other hand, he’s going to be interrogated for the information he has on a certain operation our we’ve heard about.”

“Tortured.” Cola gritted his teeth. “You mean tortured.” He was standing, and he was holding his gun so hard his knuckles were white.

“If that’s what it takes. It depends entirely on Fun Ghoul here.”

Ghoul snapped his head up, like out of a daydream. “You aren’t killing anyone else.”

“Ghost em, on three.” Jet muttered.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The groups slammed together, and Max wished they weren’t fighting in a hallway. Max shot at a couple Dracs, hitting two of them, but not killing one. Flare slammed him up against a wall, and Max tried to gasp in air.

“It’s not to late to be reeducated.” Flare cocked his head.

“I am a… Killjoy. An’… an’ you’re a bastard. Burn in hell.”

Flare tightened his grip on Max’s throat, and he saw Ghoul come after his dropped gun, vaguely paying attention as Ghoul hit him over the head with it. Max hit the floor as Flare turned to Ghoul and punched him hard. Jet shot over Ghoul’s head and Flare stumbled back. Jet got Ghoul off the floor. Max crawled back, out of Flares reach, and all the sudden, four Dracs fell, leaving two left, which Cola took care of pretty easily.

Lunacy Fringe and Ghost Shadows stood at the end of the hall, along with a third Killjoy Max didn’t recognize. Lunacy had a black eye, and Ghost’s shoulder was bleeding.

Max blinked, and Flare was gone.

“You guys realize what this means, right?” Jet asked, wiping blood away from a cut above his eye. “We’re the first rehab center to survive a BL/I attack.”

“Either they’re losing power, or we’re gaining it.” Lunacy said.

“I gotta go.” Ghoul muttered.

“What do you mean?” Jet said. “You’re not going anywhere. None of you are. We need to take stock of injuries, bury our dead.”

“I’m putting you all in danger.” Ghoul insisted.

“Wherever you’re going, I’m going.” Max said.

“Nobody’s going anywhere. We’re gonna give it a day.” Cola said. “Not even BL/I can get people out here in a day.”

Finally Ghoul nodded. “Okay.”


	4. Ghosts Don't Call You Stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry my posting schedule is so inconsistent... I have to say, chapter four is the furthest ive gotten ever. If you want to not just randomly check, I do post on my Tumblr-- createuntiltheendoftime--when I update, so go follow me for updates.
> 
> Have fun, and I hope you like it! :)

“Max, you needta see this!” Max heard Jet’s yell from outside the building. He followed Jet’s voice to stare at the side of the building, where the words “He’s dead”, along with a BL/I smiley, were painted in bright red. Blood.

“Who’s dead? Ghoul?”

“No…” Instinctively, Max knew exactly who Flare was talking about. “It’s my brother. My brother’s dead.” Max choked on the words, and Jet put an arm around him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Max.” He said quietly.

“You guys don’t have enough water to clean it up, do you?”

“Not water, manpower. There are too many injuries, too many deaths.”

“I’ll do it. I’m useless when it comes to medical stuff, and I’m not hurt.” Max spoke quietly.

“Not anything that I can fix.”

“No…” Max stared at the wall, almost looking past it, into some unknown dimension. After a few minutes, he looked at Jet. “Do you have spray paint?”

Max spent hours outside, Ghoul actually started worrying about him. “What the fuck! Is he gonna be alright?” Then his tone changed as he berated himself. “The fuck am I saying? He’ll be fine.”

Cola rolled his eyes. “Ghoul, his brother’s been dusted.”

Ghoul sighed. “I know, but he’s been out there for hours. Has he even had any water?”

“I don’t know.”

At that moment, Max walked in, sunburned and covered in paint and sweat. “Hey guys.” He said, with almost no feeling.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Drink some water.” Ghoul said.

“I’m fine.”

“Jet, get him to drink.” Ghoul limped out, using the makeshift crutches Jet had rigged to help Ghoul get around. The sun was hot on his face as he walked around the side of the building. Then he saw what Max had done to the side of the building. Holy. Shit.

The entire wall was a mural of the desert at night, of a white car speeding thorough the sand, the black smiley X’ed out by red spray paint. Ghoul could see every star, and the cloud of dust behind the car was so real that Ghoul actually had the urge to put his bandanna over his mouth.

“Geez. The kid didn’t tell us he was good at art.” Cola commented. “To bad his brother’s dead.”

“No kidding.” Ghoul made his way back inside, where there was no Max to be seen, and Jet was still helping the more seriously injured.

“Where’s Max?”

“Dyeing his hair. Said he was done with the City.”

“After that clap, I figured he would be.” Cola said.

“Max!” Ghoul called. He hobbled into the bathroom, where Max had hair dye plastered to his hair and skin. “Come to the races with me. I’ll help you paint your car tomorrow, not like you need it.”

Max looked miserable. “Sure.”

“It’s a date, Max.” Ghoul winked.

“Party… Party Poison.” He looked uncertain when he said it, like he wasn’t sure that it was the entirely right decision.

Ghoul grinned. “It’s a date, Party.”

Sand grinned. “Once your bike dries, we’ll take it out and race a track or two, yeah?”

Kobra nodded. “Okay…” He went for another layer on his bike, the yellow spray paint throwing a cloud into the air. Sand grinned again, and Kobra sat back, waiting for the layer to dry. “Hey Sand?”

Sand tilted his chin towards Kobra.

“When I find my brother, I’m allowed to come back and see you, right?”

“’Course! Why wouldn’t you?”

“I just… I know that ‘Joy groups are a little closed off…”

“Dude, of course you’re coming back. You better, or I’m gonna hunt you down.”

Kobra nodded with a small smile.

A couple hours later, the pair took off. Sand led him to a little dirt track, and they raced for a couple hours. Finally, they stopped, and Sand and Kobra sat together on a little knoll of tough grass.

“Okay. Let’s talk about your brother.” Sand said.

“Alright.”

“Where’d you last see him.”

“The City. I watched them get through the tunnel.”

“Them?”

“Him and Ghoul.”

“Ghoul? Geez dude, gimme somethin’.”

“Fun Ghoul. He’s how I got out of the City.” Kobra leaned back on his elbows. “Max and I got him out of the City, and he was gonna help us be Killjoys.”

“So they’re together.”

“Yeah.”

“Get off the damn hood, Ghoul!”

“You told me to put the tape here!”

“You don’t need to get on my hood to do it!”

Ghoul couldn’t actually help until almost four days later, and the race they were supposed to be going to was tomorrow.

“Okay, now put it—You know what, Ghoul, just—just let me do it.” Party grabbed the tape, and set it at angle, pressing down the ratty old towels to protect the rest of the hood. Once he got the rest of it taped, Party stood on the towels, spraying white into the space he’d left.

“Now you’re standing on the hood!” Ghoul complained.

“It’s my hood, Ghoul! Jeez.”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“Shut the fuck up. It’s a spider!”

Ghoul, as much as he hated real live spiders, thought the huge ass spider on the hood was pretty fucking sick. “It looks cool as shit, Party.”

Party grinned. “Thanks.”

The great thing about stealing BL/I cars is when you get them, everything actually works. The t-bar, air-conditioning, you don’t even need to slam the car doors to get them to shut. So the air conditioning was blasting, and so was the radio, with Dr. D speaking in barely understandable code.

“ _Alright tumbleweeds, Zone 3’s got some serous motorbaby action, but keep your butt lamp down, kids, mom and dad are searching the closet for dust mites, and they’ve already found too many_.”

Translation: Race today in Zone 3, but lay low if you’re going, cause BL/I’s looking for you and too many Killjoys have already been captured or dusted.

“ _And now we’ve got some screamin’ anthems comin’ your way_.” A cello intro starts off a song Party hadn’t heard before.

“He wears his heart safety-pinned to his backpack his backpack is all that he knows.” Ghoul sang along quietly with the radio, matching the volume and tone. After a couple more seconds of the first verse, Ghoul started yelling the chorus. “ALL ALONE HE TURNS TO STONE WHILE HOLDING HIS BREATH HALF TO DEATH!”

“Jesus christ, Ghoul!” Party leaned away from Ghoul’s yelling.

“I’m singing.”

“You are not. The first verse was fine, but jeez, the chorus.”

“You’re just making fun of me.”

“For good reason.”

Ghoul huffed, and when the chorus came in again, he belted just as loud as he did last time. Party rolled his eyes and leaned against the window.

The race grounds were a lot more crowded than Party thought they would be, what with everybody trying to survive and all, but when he mentioned it to Ghoul, all he did was shrug. “What can I say? ‘Joys like entertainment. We’re not all doom and gloom and colorful clothes.”

They parked among the other cars and got out, Ghoul limping alongside Party. Jet was pissed that he wasn’t taking his crutches, but Ghoul insisted that if there was a firefight, he didn’t want to be dragging a couple pieces of wood around. So he limped. Party was tempted to help Ghoul, but he figured he’d get hit.

He saw the racers lining up, a teen boy with pink and black hair and a black jean jacket standing next to a bleach blonde kid in a red leather jacket, and a trio of girls, one with blue hair and a leather jacket, purple hair and a aviator jacket, and the third with long, natural red hair, and a black leather jacket with a snake printed on the back. Eight more riders stand around, and Killjoys mill about, chatting and generally having a good time.

“Motorbabies to the track! Come on ya bastards, let’s get this shit started!”

Every racer walked up to their bikes, already set up and ready to roll.

“Take your mark! Set! Go!”

The biggest cloud of dust Party had ever seen flew into the air and he actually took a step back. The ‘Joys shot off and Party and Ghoul watched them fly around the track. Ghoul subtly lean on Party, and Party let him as they watched the races. One Joy’s bike flipped and Party watched it hit the ground hard, and the Joy was thrown across the track. It was the natural redhead, as far as Party could tell. The race only lasted three minutes, but there were like twelve more after this, as well as a mini concert from a little band trying to get off the ground.

The race ended with the black and pink haired guy in first, the girl with blue hair in second, and the bleach blond in third.

The second race was getting set up when Ghoul complained about being hungry. “You owe me an energy drink.”

“You know those are shit for you, right?”

“Yeah but ever since Jet gave me one that night of the clap. Told him I didn’t wanna sleep… I’ve been craving one ever since. They make my insides buzz.”

“Imagine being affected by caffeine. It just helps my brain move slower.” Ghoul said with a grin.

“You’re still affected by it, stupid. It’s just not the same as my being affected.

Before Ghoul could formulate a response, he noticed something over to his left, whatever it might be, and took off that way, limping faster than Party would ever want to walk in this heat.

Party was about to follow, but the blond dude who won third slammed into his shoulder.

“Jeez, Kobra!” The black haired dude says, only half-joking. “Don’t crash into people you don’t know!”

That was the catch. Party felt like he _did_ know him. Like there was a piece he wasn’t putting together.

“Shit, you okay dude? Did I knock a screw loose?” The blond, Kobra, stopped. “Wait a sec. I know you from somewhere. Were you at the race last week?”

Party shook his head. For a second he thought that maybe… But no. If this guy was at the races last week, then he had probably been in the desert for a lot longer than that.

“Look, you sure you’re alright, man?” The other guy asked.

“Chill, Sand.” Kobra said. “I’m Kobra, that’s Sandman.”

“You got first.”

“Yeah.” Sand seemed to want to take the subject very far away from the races.

“Hey, get off me, asshole!” That was Ghoul’s voice.

Party turned and ran towards him, and found himself in an alley, Ghoul cornered by four Joys. One was clutching a bloody nose, and the other had Ghoul against the wall, a knife to his throat. Ghoul had a knife to the other ‘Joy’s throat too, and they were trying to kill each other through stares.

Party’s hand moved toward his gun. “If you screwheads don’t back of right the fuck now, I’m gonna start a fight, and you won’t win.”

“Oh my god! Fun Ghoul?” Turned out that Kobra and Sandman followed Party, and clearly, Kobra recognized Ghoul.

Party tried to ignore him. “Is. That. Shiny?”

The guy shoved Ghoul away with an angry growl, but Ghoul was against the wall, so it just ended up leaving a very shallow cut in Ghoul’s throat. The ‘Joy signaled to his crew to leave, and Ghoul flicked away his switchblade.

“The hell’d you do, Ghoul?”

“Oh sure, blame it on the injured kid.” Ghoul rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, what the hell did you do?”

“Dude, he just wanted my carbons.” Then he grinned. “Lucky for me, I don’t have any carbons. He didn’t take that too well.”

“That just means you’re broke as shit, dude.”

“Semantics.” Ghoul waved away Party’s protest and went to look at Kobra. “Shit, I know you, dude.”

Kobra was still staring open-mouthed at Ghoul. “How are you not dead?”

“This the dude? Outta Bat City?”

It dawned on Party. “Oh my god. Jaren.” Then he threw his arms around his brother. “I—You’re alive.” Party could tell he was about to start crying. “God, Jaren, oh god.” Kobra hugged him back, and when the two separated.

“You guys made it out.” Kobra said.

Sand leaned on Kobra’s shoulder. “This bastard decided he was just gonna go kaput in the middle of the damned desert. Lucky Benze saw him.”

“Jaren, what happened?”

“It’s Kobra now.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m uh, Party Poison. What happened?”

“I got out to the desert, and… well, honestly, I can’t really remember.” Kobra glanced away. “I remember pain, I remember standing up, and there was blood, and the sand was really hot, and—” Kobra’s breath sounded like it was shaking.

“Kobes, it’s all right.” Sand said, and Kobra stopped.

“I’m pretty sure a Scarecrow shot him.” Sand said.

“Flare! I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Party snarled.

“Ma—Party, it’s alright.” Kobra said.

“So what do we do?”

“For now, we race. I’ve got one in twenty minutes, and Sand’s got one in half an hour.”

“Well whatever we do, apparently I have to protect this asshole. He disappears for five minutes, and gets his ass beat.” Party grinned.

Ghoul glared at him. “I will hit you.”

“Guys, you want some food?” Sand asked. “It’s on me.”

“Dude, free food? Hell to the fuck yeah man.” Ghoul grinned, and Sand and him walked further down the court.

“Kobra, are you alright?” Party asked.

“We’re in the Zones. Like we’ve planned since we were twelve. It’s just a little hard to process. We left everything we knew. Our friends.”

“Looks like you made some new ones pretty quick.”

“I did not have any control over that.” Kobra smirked. The two walked slowly after Sand and Ghoul, who were laughing at something the other had said.

“You know we’re going back for them, right? We’re not leaving them in the City. Not Sira, Not Jake, no one. And after everyone we know knows they’re being lied to, we’ll take the rest of the City. They _will_ be free.”

“You were meant to be a Killjoy, Party.” Kobra sounded a little sad as he spoke.

“You were too.”

“But you’ve got such a way with words. When you speak, I immediately wanna go fight God.”

Party blushed. “Come on, dude, I’m not that cool.”

“As your younger brother, I’m legally obligated to agree, but as a fellow ‘Joy, I say fuck the legalities.”

“You just want me to give you something. Come on, what is it. Keys to the ‘Am? Cause that’s never happening.” Party grinned as Kobra shook his head.

Sand threw something at Kobra, and Kobra, with his ever-quickening reflexes, caught it pretty easily. “Dude, a hot dog?”

“Yeah man, straight from the City. Last one they got, so you’re lucky as hell.”

Ghoul handed Party a can of peaches. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sand, Ghoul and Party were all up against the fence, watching Kobra, who was lined up and looked incredibly determined.

“Swore he was gonna win this.” Sand commented. “Honestly, he scares me.”

“Yeah, you’ve never seen him fight over the radio.”

“That what you two used to do?”

“Fight over stolen radios and iPods? All the time. Then I—” Party stopped. “Things changed, y’know?” Party did not miss Ghoul’s questioning glance, but he ignored it.

“Go!” The command made the trio glance up and watch as Kobra shot off down the track after someone on a blue bike, seven other racers following him. Within the first thirty seconds, someone was out, sprawling in the dust.

“Come _on_ Kobra!” Sand yelled, as Kobra and the blue bike kid came up neck and neck. Slowly, Kobra made his way past, and inched into the inside. Another minute and a half, and Kobra skidded on the other side of the finish line, his bike fishtailing as he braked.

“Dude, don’t do _that_.” Sand complained. “It’ll kill his tires and brakes.”

Kobra came up to the trio after the race and pulled off his helmet, a huge grin on his face. “Dude. I did it.” His hair stuck to his face with sweat, and he stuck his helmet under his arm.

“Kobra, you did awesome!” Sand grabbed him into a hug, and Kobra let out a laugh, one of the ones you do when you’re out of breath. “You’re fast, and reckless. You live off sharp turns. The perfect traits for a motorbaby.”

Party had a little smile as he watched his brother. He was so damned happy, and he had never seen him this way. _Especially_ not in the City.

They finished their food, and Sand did his race, coming in first, as Kobra predicted. “I was talking to another ‘Joy, y’know, and she said that Sand was the best motorbaby the desert had ever seen.”

“I really don’t think that’s true. There was Electrica, one of the first motorbabies. I haven’t ever beat one’a her times.” Sand came up behind Kobra, and he turned.

“Come on, Sand. They think you’re awesome.”

Sand smirked. “Doesn’t mean they’re right. C’mon, let’s get back to the Valley.”

Kobra sent a small glance toward Party, one that was almost unnoticeable, but Sand noticed. “They can come, man. I’m not gonna stop your brother from comin’ with ya.” He said that like it was totally obvious.

“We gotta get back to the rehab, let Jet know what’s up.” Ghoul said.

“Sorry Party, I’m coming. You think I’m gonna let you outta my sight for even a second.” Kobra said.

“You’re the one who literally got shot!”

“So what?”

“So if anyone, you’re the one who needs protecting!”

“Weren’t they just talking about how awesome you are?” Ghoul asked Sand.

“They’re siblings.”

“Point.”

Sand and Kobra followed Party and Ghoul back to the rehab center, and Jet poked his head out, ignoring them once he realized who they were.

“Jet! I got someone for you to meet!” Party called quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“This is my brother, Kobra Kid.”

“I thought he…”

“No, he didn’t. Jet he’s alive!”

Jet grinned. “Your brother’s been a hell of a lot of help around here.”

“Where’s Cola?”

“Four ‘Joys got in a clap a couple hours ago. One’a them was shot, and’a, we were the closest to them. He’s helpin’ patch the kid up.”

“Oh.”

Sand looked around. “This the place you been holed up for two an’ a half weeks?”

“Lucky we ended up here and not somewhere else.” Party shrugged.

“Like the middle of the desert?”

“For example. Listen, Jet. We’re gonna stay with the Suitehearts for a bit.”

“Alright. Listen, come back. You guys are chill.”

Ghoul winked. “Bitch, you bet I’ll be back.”

“I’ll meet you guys in a moment, all right?” Party said. He made his way to the hospital area, where there were three Killjoys. One of them sat next to a hospital bed with his arms crossed, looking pissed as hell. The other two were joking with each other, every word strained and anxious.

“Hey guys… How’re ya’ll doin’?”

“How does it look?” The crossed-arms one snapped.

The one on the hospital bed was completely unconscious, pale and sweaty.

“I get it man, he’s gonna be alright.”

“They.”

“Sorry, they’re gonna be fine.” Party glanced between the bed and the Killjoy. “My brother got shot about a week ago. He’s in the front room, being a pain in my ass.”

“God, I fuckin’ hope so.” The one on the right said.

“I’m Crash Candy.” That’s the cross-arms one. Neon green hair, black jacket.

“Disco Dandy.” Cotton candy blue hair, pink jacket.

“Cosmo Ghost.” Purple hair, green jacket.

“The one who’s getting an ass-kicking from the Witch is Chaos Kid.” Pink and blue hair with a faded _American Idiot_ tshirt.

“I’m Party Poison. The short ass gremlin and the bleach blonde bastard in the other room are Fun Ghoul and my brother Kobra Kid. Good luck.”

“We’re gonna need it.”

Party nodded and turned back, searching for Cola. “Hey, Cola!” He called. “There’s someone you gotta meet.”

Cola stuck his head out from another room. “What’s up?”

“Follow me.”

Cola saw Sand and Kobra in the other room. “Well I know Sand, but who’s the other guy?”

“Cola, this Kobra Kid, my brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys thanks for getting this far, leave kudos, i guess, comment what you think is gonna happen next. I have major plans my dudes. ;)


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